The Chemistry of Love
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Sherlock navigates his newfound romanticsim with his relationship with Molly. Of course angst and hilarity will ensue. Plus, a whole lotta fluff! Post-TFP. I do not own the characters; Sir ACD and Moftiss/BBC do.
1. Trapped in the Closet

Molly thought she would still feel angry or upset in the morning after that phone call, but a vague text from John before going to sleep put her more at ease.

 **Please, Molly, just go easy on him. It wasn't his fault. –JW**

She had honestly expected for Sherlock to stop by last night but he hadn't. Molly couldn't help but feel disappointed. As she worked in the lab at the microscope the consulting detective himself claimed as his own, someone grabbed her arm and urged her off of the stool.

"What the—"she stopped when it dawned on her that Sherlock was tugging her along to the supply closet. When the door shut behind them, the cramped space already began to feel smaller than it was. "Sherlock Holmes, are you out of your damn—mmm!" His hand covered her mouth.

"Molly, I just need you to please listen to me before you start spouting off how much you hate me," Sherlock spoke quickly in a whisper. His palm suddenly felt wet and he quickly pulled it away from her mouth. "Did you just lick my hand?"

"Yes, to keep you from accidentally suffocating me," she countered, amused by his shock. "I could never hate you."

"Good…that's, uh, good," he replied quietly, wiping his hand on his Belstaff.

"Why are you whispering?" Molly bit back a laugh.

"I just am, now listen, you need to know how I—mmph!" Sherlock felt his brain short-circuit; at least he thought it was. Molly Hooper was snogging him. His Molly. When he finally allowed himself to relax into her embrace, his tongue slipped through the seam of her lips. Sherlock could no longer scoff at the term 'sparks fly' because the electricity between them was intoxicating.

"I know," Molly breathed out when they parted. "How you feel, I mean." He blinked at her in surprise. "I have known for a while now; well, since you returned from your two years away. That conversation in the stairwell and the way you were looking at me; the way you kissed my cheek, so close to my lips. I just—I've always known. You don't have to say the words; it's fine."

"Molly," he said.

"I feel awful for how I forced it out of you, though I'm still not sure why I had to say it, but—" she stopped talking when his lips crashed into hers once more.

"Would you kindly be quiet for five minutes?" he murmured. Molly motioned zipping her lips.

"I have a sister who is so incredibly intelligent, she's mentally unstable," Sherlock explained. "I did not know anything about her until yesterday. Mycroft, John and I were put through a series of tests, though they were built for me only. One of those tests had a coffin meant for you. The epitaph had the words etched on it and I was told I had to get you to say it, as it was supposedly the release code for a bomb at your flat. There was never any bomb." He stopped to catch his breath. "The point of the test wasn't to kill you, but to rip my heart open. She counted on you making me say it because that's what she wanted out of it."

"God, Sherlock, I'm so sorry. If there's anything you need…do you have anywhere to stay? I heard Baker Street was blown up…again. You could stay with me," Molly offered.

"Always so selfless," he mused.

"Sherlock," she spoke softly. "Is there anything you need? Anything at all?"

"Just you," he replied honestly. "Your love for me is a most peculiar thing in my eyes, only because I have no idea what I have done to deserve such a gift. But I want to thank you for loving me even when I was a complete arsehole to you."

"You deserve love, Sherlock, and you really haven't been as bad to me as you think you have," Molly told him. "You deserve every bit of love I hold for you." She smiled at him. "Now, I think we should get out of here before we lose oxygen."

"From being locked up in a supply closet or from snogging?" Sherlock asked cheekily.

"Both," she laughed, turning the knob. "Oh no. No no no no no."

"What's wrong?" he questioned.

"The door's jammed," Molly answered.

"Not to worry, Greg's on his way up anyways," Sherlock informed her. Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"You finally got his bloody name right!" she exclaimed. The sound of the lab doors opening alerted them. "Greg, can you get this door open?" she shouted.

"What are you doing locked up in a supply closet?" Greg asked bemusedly.

"Just please get us out of here before we lose our breath," Sherlock told him.

"Sherlock!? You too?" Greg chuckled. "This is a new development." The door swung open and Molly tripped over Sherlock's foot as she attempted to walk out. Sherlock caught her in his arms before she hit the ground.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Never better," Molly looked up at him.

"Did you two wanna be left alone or?" Greg teased. They jumped apart slightly, both blushing a shade of pink. "Boy, Anderson's gonna have a field day with this."

 **Author's Note:** hello lovely readers! this story is unique in the way that I am basing chapters off of one liner dialogue prompts from my friends on tumblr. The story will connect; it is NOT a collection of one shots, so I hope this goes well lol!


	2. Unusually Romantic

"Testosterone, oestrogen, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxy—" Sherlock was cut off by John noisily closing the newspaper.

"Is there a point to this, Sherlock?" John sighed.

"Be more quiet, John, you'll wake Rosamund," he scolded. "And yes, there is a point; these are the chemicals that make up love. It is translated by the thalamus. Anyways, it has always been interesting that dopamine plays a major role in romantic attachments, seeing as it is also activated by nicotine and cocaine."

"Sherlock," John warned.

"Not to worry, John, I'm no longer interested in relapsing," Sherlock paced. "As I was saying, Norepinephrine is the adrenaline pumping in my veins when I'm around her; heart and mind racing. Serotonin works as a neurotransmitter and has been known to send people temporarily insane; strange, as it is an important chemical of love." He froze in place. "All that leaves is oxytocin and vasopressin."

"And what do they do?" John asked.

"Vasopressin and Oxytocin are both released post-coitus. Though, the latter is a result of orgasm which apparently deepens the bond of a relationship," Sherlock rattled off, his neck flushed slightly at the explanation. He cleared his throat as a way to change the subject.

"Yes, right, well, that was more information than I needed," John remarked. Sherlock's phone went off then.

"It's Lestrade," Sherlock told him before answering the phone. "Brilliant! We'll be there!"

"Should I have Mrs. Hudson watch Rosie, then?" John asked.

"Yes; it seems we have another strange case on our hands," Sherlock grinned.

* * *

"Bloody hell," John murmured when he and Sherlock arrived at the scene.

"Someone's channeling their inner Victor Frankenstein," Molly remarked.

"Are you replacing Anderson?" Sherlock asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Nope, 'fraid not," Anderson smirked. The smile on Sherlock's face dropped.

"I'm just here as supervising pathologist," Molly told him.

"Mr. Williams was dismembered and sewn back together again; Molly has already confirmed they are all still his own body parts," Lestrade told them. Sherlock bent down next to Molly, examining the handiwork of the stitches.

"These are too professional," Sherlock muttered. "Must've been done by—"

"An actual surgeon," he and Molly said in unison.

"What did I tell you?" Anderson asked Greg. "Sherlolly is real." The couple in question turned their heads back at him. "My theory had truth to it."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Lestrade chuckled.

"Never," Anderson answered.

"Leave the premises," Sherlock told him. "You're putting me off." Molly gave him a look similar to the one John gives him when he's 'a bit not good.' "Fine, you can stay…I guess."

* * *

As Molly prepared for the autopsy, Sherlock swept in with his Belstaff flying behind him.

"May I observe the autopsy? Anderson won't shut up and it's driving me insane," he told her.

"Sure," she giggled.

"Are you finding this to be humorous?" Sherlock asked.

"N-no," she stifled her laugh. "Though, you'll find this to be the humerus." Molly said this as she pointed to the correct area on the cadaver. Sherlock kept a straight face for as long as he could manage before chuckling at her awful joke. "You've never laughed at my jokes before."

"I was holding back before," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I love your laugh," Molly smiled. He flashed a warm smile of his own. All was quiet as she cut into and examined the body. Sherlock watched as she performed the tests on Mr. Williams's blood. He noticed more about her now, like the way she bites her bottom lip when she's in deep concentration or the way her eyes light up when she's onto something. Her small fingers were quick and nimble as she worked.

Every now and then, Molly caught Sherlock looking at her with the utmost adoration. It took every effort for her to slow down her heart rate. Her relationship with him was still so new and unbelievably real, she sometimes felt she was living in a daydream. Reality was much better than her dreams of him ever were; his lips tasted better than she imagined and his hugs were so much warmer.

"Poison," she muttered.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked.

"He's been poisoned by arsenic," Molly told him.

"So why even bother with the dismemberment?" Sherlock wondered aloud.

"Maybe just to show off?" she suggested. "Or it's their calling card as a new serial killer?"

"Both are plausible but what would a professional surgeon need to do this for?" he asked. "I need to go. Will you come by Baker Street after your shift?"

"Sure," Molly replied. "Thumbs again?"

"Nope, just you," he winked. She couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Molly ventured up the stairs once Mrs. Hudson let her in. She could hear a beautiful melody drifting through the air from his violin. The door was cracked open and she took a moment to take a snapshot in her mind of him playing by the fireplace, all aglow.

"You can come in, you know," Sherlock told her, his back still turned. He must have caught her in the mirror. She stepped inside slowly, noticing that the flat was more organized than usual. The coffee table was cleared off with the exception of takeaway from Angelo's set in place, ready for consumption. His Bunsen burner was used as a makeshift candle, set in the middle of the table.

"What's all this for?" she asked. His playing stopped abruptly when he turned to look at her.

"For you; well, us," Sherlock answered.

"You don't eat while you're on a case," Molly pointed out.

"I'm making an exception," he replied, setting the Stradivarius down. When he approached her, he cupped her cheek with his hand and leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

"I have to say I'm surprised," she told him. "Thank you, this is lovely."

"I would have set up the kitchen table, but I still have an experiment I'm working on and—" he stopped talking when Molly held her index finger to his lips.

"It's okay, Sherlock," she spoke softly. "It's perfect." He sat down beside her on the sofa and they ate their meal together. They discussed the current case they were both working on and theories of who and why.

* * *

After eating, Molly noticed his unease. She placed her hand on top of his, attempting to comfort him and spoke up, "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to screw this up," he admitted.

"Hey, don't be like that," she told him. "Look at me, Sherlock." His eyes gazed into hers as her hands held his face, thumbs tracing his cheekbones lightly. "You're not going to screw this up."

"I'm not wired for this," he told her.

"All human beings are wired for love; and yes, you are human," Molly explained. "You've just got extraordinary intellectual abilities, but that doesn't mean your heart isn't valid." She took a steady breath before continuing. "You've been through so much, what with learning about what happened to Victor and all. You were once an incredibly emotional being and you always have been, though you tried to control it all these years. I don't expect anything other than for you to just be yourself."

"I am not exactly versed in the topic of romance," Sherlock remarked. "It is something I had deemed unimportant. You deserve more." She laughed then.

"Sorry, it's just that spending time with you is all I require," she told him. "We watch murder documentaries for fun and work on science experiments together; well, with snogging on the side. I couldn't ask for anything better."

"I suppose we aren't a typical couple," Sherlock chuckled.

"Exactly; we're not. We enjoy much different things than everyone else," Molly smiled. "That doesn't make it any less romantic." He hugged her close to him, her back against his chest and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She was amused to hear him quietly reciting all of the chemicals involved with love in her ear.

"What happens if I do this?" he whispered. Before she had a chance to ask what he was talking about, his full lips were pressed against her neck, trailing down the side of it. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, tilting it slightly to give him better access. A shiver ran through her when his tongue traced patterns on her skin. She could feel his warm breath against her as he hummed in satisfaction, the vibration running through her. His lips moved back up and hit the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"Sherlock," she moaned, feeling him smile. He turned her face to his and leaned down until he was hovering just above her mouth.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," Sherlock told her before snogging her tenderly. She carded her fingers through his curls, resulting in a positive response from him as he hummed against her mouth.

"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes," Molly breathed out when their kiss was broken. "Just the way you are."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Who's behind the stitched up murder? What will Sherlock do next? lol


	3. Nightmare Shift

"The stitches on Mr. Williams had a faint smell to them," Molly casually brought up. Sherlock was at her flat, using it as a bolt hole.

"Mm, how so?" he asked. "What did it remind you of? Remember every detail possible."

"It was a familiar scent; a type of cologne, though I've no idea what it is," she told him. "Don't you have several types of perfumes and colognes catalogued in that mind palace of yours?"

"Yes but the scent has most likely faded by now, but if it's familiar, maybe someone you know has worn it," Sherlock answered. "I do worry that—" He stopped short as his phone went off. Molly listened to his side of the call, deducing for herself that it was Greg and another victim had been found in stitches.

"Another one?" she asked.

"Yep," he replied. "Want to come?"

"Sure," she smiled.

* * *

"This one was obviously done in a hurry; the stitch-work is sloppy," Sherlock observed. "Scuff marks from a—" he brought out his magnifier—" lugged sole, so most likely a work boot of some kind."

"Blonde hair," Molly piped up. "It's long; probably a woman."

"It doesn't make any sense," Sherlock muttered. "Men's cologne, woman's hair."

"Maybe they're working together," she suggested. "I still smell the cologne on this one too."

"I think I know it too," Greg added. "I think someone at Bart's wears it."

"Who?" Sherlock asked urgently.

"Mr. Norris, I believe," he answered. "The ex and I used to have dinners together with him and his girlfriend. She worked there too, a nurse. Her name was—"

"Theresa," Molly finished. "She has long blonde hair; my God, you're right, Greg! Mr. Norris is a surgeon too. I have to go into work tonight and we've only got Theresa's hair as proof."

"Molly, it will be okay; I'll make sure to find more definitive proof of him," Sherlock assured her. "Just go on as if everything is normal, okay? Don't let either of them become suspicious that you know something."

"Okay," Molly agreed.

* * *

She was unnerved on the inside but was completely composed on the outside. The latest victim's body was on the slab and she was furthering the examination, looking for any proof of Mr. Norris. She didn't notice the pair of eyes peering into mortuary's door window. She tested the bit of blood found on the victim's wrist and compared it to the blood inside the body. It didn't match up.

"Miss Hooper, sorry to bother you, but I'm afraid I must stop this autopsy," Mr. Norris's eyes bore into hers.

"I'm nearly finished; I'm not stopping now," she replied, keeping her composure. He circled around her.

"Then I'm afraid you will have to share the same fate; you know too much," he warned before clamping a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming.

* * *

"She's not answering her phone," Sherlock panicked, pacing the sitting room.

"Sherlock, she's at work; she's probably just up to her elbows in a cadaver," John chuckled.

"No, she always answers, no matter what," he replied. "I'm going over there." Sherlock took out his phone as he flew down the stairs. "Lestrade, meet me at Bart's. I have reason to believe that Molly's life has been endangered."

* * *

Molly bit his hand hard, drawing blood before she grabbed her scalpel and stuck it in his side.

"Why you little bitch!" he exclaimed, slapping her. Molly recovered quickly and shoved the cart of medical supplies into him before running out of the morgue and towards the lab. She could hide in the supply closet and text Sherlock. As her feet crossed over the lab's threshold, Mr. Norris yanked her ponytail back and her head hit the door jamb hard. She felt the trickle of blood and became woozy, eventually blacking out as she heard Sherlock's voice in her head.

* * *

She woke with a start, eyes fluttering rapidly, adjusting to the hospital lighting.

"Sherlock," her voice was rough.

"Molly," Sherlock breathed out in relief. "I thought you were dead when I found you. You had lost so much blood and your heart rate had dropped so low, I could barely feel it." A couple of tears fell from his eyes, now a stormy blue.

"Norris, what about him?" she asked.

"Arrested along with his girlfriend," he told her. "There's stitches on the back of your head; I saw you put up a good fight."

"Stabbed with a scalpel and ran," she spoke hoarsely.

"That's my girl," Sherlock smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. When she focused on his face, it looked like he had been through hell. Dark circles were beneath his beautiful eyes and his curls were the most unruly she had ever seen as if he had ran his fingers through them several times. "I should've been there with you."

"It's not your fault," Molly told him, her voice finding strength. "Sherlock, I'm okay. It wasn't your fault." She repeated it like a mantra.

"I could've lost you," his voice broke. He took her hand in his.

"But you didn't," she insisted.

"Quite right," Sherlock kissed the back of her hand. "I should be comforting you, not the other way around."

"I'm fine, Sherlock. I'm more worried for you right now," Molly caressed his cheek.

He stayed the night at the hospital, never leaving her side. His fingers brushed over her hand lightly every now and then. He provided water for her whenever she needed it and hummed violin concertos in her ear, eventually lulling her to sleep.


	4. Oxytocin

It had been a month since the night shift that landed Molly in a hospital bed. Sherlock was pacing the sitting room. He had been bored lately, not having any cases above a six. Molly had been quite busy lately at the hospital, working a double shift over the past three days. He missed her, to say the least, although he had stopped by to experiment on a thumb and bring her lunch.

"Oxytocin," he muttered to himself. John did a double take.

"Please tell me you're not planning to experiment with that particular chemical," John asked, remembering the unwanted lesson that it was released post-coitus.

"No; it's much more than an experiment," Sherlock told him.

"I'm serious, Sherlock, do not treat something so intimate as an experiment; it would hurt Molly," John warned him.

"For the last time, it is not an experiment. If you must know, I have been considering taking the next step with Molly in our relationship and yes, I plan to inform her that I am ready for it," he explained.

"Okay, sorry I asked," John replied, mentally telling himself to stop questioning Sherlock about his relationship with Molly.

* * *

The next day, John stopped by Baker Street with Rosie to find Sherlock and Molly working on an experiment. She was laughing so hard, she snorted and there was the faint smell of smoke.

"Something wrong with the hot plate?" John asked, waving the smoke away.

"Sh-Sherlock shocked himself when he plugged it in," Molly laughed.

"I hardly find it amusing, Molly," he huffed. "Ah, got it just right."

"You just lucked out," she teased.

"Luck? Nope. Skills," Sherlock replied.

"If it's skill, then do it again," Molly challenged him. He opened his mouth to counter her but nothing came out, so he closed it again.

"Did you see that Rosie?" John asked his daughter. "Your Aunt Molly has rendered Uncle Sherlock speechless." He was chuckling then.

"Aunt Mowwy!" Rosie exclaimed.

"Hello, cutie pie," Molly cooed.

"Rosamund, tell your Aunt Molly that it was skill," Sherlock told her.

"No!" Rosie laughed.

"Et tu, Rosamund?" he sighed in defeat.

"So, I've got a conference this weekend and was wondering if you two could watch Rosie for me," John requested. "Besides, you'll probably need the practice." He smirked cheekily at them.

"I don't see why not," Molly and Sherlock spoke in unison.

"Yeah," John remarked, "that's getting a bit creepy now."

* * *

Molly was an early riser; that was no secret. So when John came by Saturday morning to drop Rosie off, she left a sleeping Sherlock sprawled in her sheets. She didn't dare wake him when he was actually sleeping for once. Rosie had already been fed before being brought over, so that just left time to play until her nap.

When Sherlock finally woke, he found Molly's dining room chairs holding up blankets that were strewn across the furniture. A large duvet lay on the floor with throw pillows scattered about. His lips quirked into an amused smirk.

"I see you've redecorated," Sherlock teased, peering around to find Molly and Rosie among the linens.

"Oh yes, Rosie seems to like it very much," Molly giggled.

"Unca 'lock!" the little Watson ran to him, still a bit wobbly on her legs.

"Hello Rosamund," he greeted, kneeling down to her level. Molly looked on with a warmth in her heart. "I think I saw a collection of your Aunt Molly's frivolous animated films you would like." He chuckled when he saw his girlfriend roll her eyes.

"You watch?" she asked, looking up with her bright blue eyes.

"Oh, I don't know," Sherlock joked. Rosie stuck out her bottom lip and it struck a chord in him.

"Pwease, Unca 'Lock?" she pleaded.

"Oh, alright then," he smiled. She wrapped her little hands around his upper arm and hugged him.

"I wuv you!" Rosie smiled brightly. Molly watched his face soften further, pure wonderment in his eyes.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he spoke in a gentle tone. Sherlock went off to retrieve Molly's collection of Disney movies. When he reappeared, Molly seemed as excited as Rosie.

"Who is it that I'm helping babysit again?" Sherlock joked.

"Hush you," Molly laughed.

"Any particular reason you're so excitable?" he asked.

"Disney movies all day? I'm in," she smiled as he seated himself next to her. Rosie then climbed into their laps, ready to watch Beauty and the Beast. It was Molly's favourite. She had fallen asleep by the third movie, just on time with her nap.

* * *

When John came by to pick up Rosie, Molly answered the door and showed him where in the fort Sherlock and Rosie had dozed off together.

"I don't believe it," he chuckled, snapping a photo. "Want me to send it to you?"

"Got one of my own, actually," Molly admitted. "Rosie, sweetheart, your daddy's here." She gently lifted her off of Sherlock's chest and handed her over to John.

"Not too much trouble then?" John asked.

"Oh, no she was wonderful," she replied.

"I meant Sherlock," he laughed.

"Yes, very funny, John," Sherlock yawned.

"Well, we best be off," John announced. "Thank you both for watching her."

"It was no problem," Molly told him. Once the door closed behind him, she made her way back to Sherlock.

"Come here," Sherlock gestured for her to sit in his lap. She seated herself, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Hello, my love," she smiled, her fingers playing with his curls. He pulled her closer by her waist and planted kisses along her neck.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudibly before capturing her lips. His hand drifted up to slide down her tank top and bra strap, pressing kisses onto her shoulder.

"Sherlock," she sighed before gazing into his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he replied, kissing her fervently. Sherlock stood and lifted her with him, whisking her away to the bedroom.


	5. I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home

"Five quid that it was the husband," Molly piped up, a handful of popcorn going into her mouth. They were watching old murder documentaries which became their Friday night tradition unless Sherlock had a case to work on.

"No bet this time, you're right," Sherlock told her. "I'll make a detective out of you yet."

"Ha ha, I think I'll stick with cadavers," she replied, "but thank you for the compliment."

By the second documentary, Sherlock decided to lean against one end of the sofa and stretched out his legs. Molly caught a chill from his cold feet hitting her thigh. The one time she wears shorts and his feet are freezing.

"Your feet are giving me chills, stop it," Molly attempted to push them off of her playfully.

"Did you just wipe your popcorn fingers on me?" he laughed.

"Yes, now budge over," she told him. He moved his legs back over to his side and Molly crawled over to curl up next to him, pressing a kiss to his neck. Once she was snuggled in comfortably, Sherlock's gaze shifted to look down at her. He wondered how a woman so small could have such a big heart, let alone hold so much love for him. And for the first time, Sherlock realized that love was worth fighting for. Molly was always worth fighting for.

It was bordering on midnight and Molly had fallen asleep, still nestled next to him on the sofa. He pressed a kiss in her hair and lingered for a moment, unaware that he had woken her.

"I once thought sentiment was a chemical defect; it's not. I now find that it is the most important chemical imbalance. You showed me that; taught me how to love and let it in. Thank you. Molly Hooper, you are truly my best friend. You've never wished I would be someone I'm not. Falling in love with you; well, I thought I'd never take another fall, but you are the exception. You're always there to catch me."

Sherlock's words had her silently crying. Once a tear hit his hand, he knew she had heard him. Lifting her chin up to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with tears, he kissed her tenderly.

"Molly, I—"

"Shhh, I love you too," she smiled. He carried her to bed and eventually fell asleep in her arms, his head resting just atop her breast. Sherlock had been taking better care of himself since starting his relationship with Molly. He ate and slept more than usual, even while on cases, but Sherlock was happy; happier than he could remember ever being.

* * *

When Molly woke the next morning, she carefully slid off of the bed as to not wake him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he mumbled, reaching out for her hand.

"Meena texted me and wanted to meet for brunch," Molly told him. "I need to go back to my flat and change."

"That matter needs to be fixed," Sherlock stated.

"What matter?" she asked.

"You," he replied, playfully pulling her back down on the bed, "should move in with me."

"Really?" Molly gasped. They had only been together for four months now and she figured that Sherlock would want to take things more slowly but she was excited at this new development.

"Yes," he breathed, "really." Sherlock caressed her face gently before sprinkling kisses all over her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks and lips. "I want to wake up to you every morning and come home to you every night."

"I want that too," she told him with a smile.

"So, is that a yes?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," Molly laughed as she kissed him. "But I really need to get going now. Love you." He reluctantly let her go, thrilled with the new prospect of their relationship.

* * *

It had been a few months since Molly had last seen Meena, so naturally, it surprised her to see her best friend from Uni sporting a small baby bump.

"Oh my goodness, look at you!" Molly exclaimed, hugging her friend.

"I know! I would've told you sooner, but things have been so crazy lately and thought it best to just surprise you!" Meena replied.

"How far along are you?" Molly asked.

"Nearly four months," Meena answered. "And, it's a boy!"

"That's so great, Meena, I'm so happy for you and David," she told her as they sat down at an outdoor table.

"Thanks! Enough about me though; I heard through the grapevine that Sherlock Holmes finally got his head out of his arse," Meena laughed. "How long have you been together?"

"A little over four months," Molly replied. "Things are going really well and I'm happy. So is he."

"That's great, Molls, I'm really happy for both of you. It's about time; I was getting tired of seeing his yearning puppy dog eyes when you weren't looking," Meena told her.

"And you never told me!?" Molly laughed.

"Wasn't my secret to tell," she remarked.

* * *

"Sherlock, I'm…home?" she announced, but it came out as a question. It sounded so natural on her tongue to call Baker Street home.

"Yeeeees, I can explain," Sherlock slowly turned around from where he was adding her books to the shelves in the sitting room. "John told me you'd probably be angry with me, but I thought I'd help and—"

"I'm not angry," Molly giggled. "I think it's sweet you're so eager to help me move in." She moved towards him until she was standing beside him and slipped the book out of his hand. "But I think I'll handle the books."

"It's probably for the best," he chuckled. "And don't worry, I brought some of your clothes over as well."

"Sherlock Holmes," she playfully scolded, throwing the union jack pillow at him.

"I'm sorry, okay, I—" he stopped short when Molly began unbuttoning his aubergine shirt, placing kisses down his chest. "I surrender; I'm yours."

"Then what are you waiting for, Mister Holmes?" Molly purred. He lifted her up and she giggled as he carried her to his—their—bedroom. "I'll never get tired of that."

"Neither will I," he said before nudging the door open and kissing her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** this chapter is probably sickeningly sweet, but I love it lol


	6. Pluto Matters

"Molly could you hand me your notes?" Sherlock asked. She rolled her eyes and dropped the notebook onto the lab table with a loud smack. John was taken aback by the sudden change in attitude.

"Anything else you want?" she asked in a tone feigning sweetness.

"Well maybe I—" he faltered when Molly glared at him. "Nevermind."

"Are you two alright?" John asked quietly to Sherlock. This behaviour had been going on for nearly five days, though John was just now experiencing it himself.

"Fine; an overreaction on her part," Sherlock remarked.

"Overreaction?" Molly asked incredulously.

"Well, you are being over-dramatic about the whole thing," he argued.

"Says the drama queen, himself," she retorted.

"Look, you know that I delete information about the solar system in my mind palace, so why does it surprise you that I have absolutely no opinion on the matter?" Sherlock asked.

"Solar system?" John muttered to himself, officially confused.

"It's just the point that you chose the wrong opinion when I presented it to you," she huffed. "Pluto is, in fact, a planet; it doesn't make it any less of one just because it's smaller than the others. Pluto matters to the solar system and those bloody astronomers are saying that it's insignificant and it doesn't count."

"Molly," Sherlock caressed her name, "darling, I think I know what the issue is." He realized how much her argument resonated with that of the way she used to feel when he treated her as if she were insignificant. A wave of guilt washed over him. They had been living together for two months now and the honeymoon period had faded a bit fast for both of them.

"A planet? That's what this whole thing was about?" John chuckled in disbelief.

"John, could you vacate the premises? I need to speak with Molly alone," Sherlock told him. The good doctor took his exit, leaving the quarreling lovers alone. "This is definitely not about Pluto, is it?"

"It is," she insisted. "Mostly." Her arms were crossed and a sad pout was displayed on her face as if she had reverted back to childhood.

"What is this really about? I know you're not truly upset that I don't care for the solar system," he asked with concern, taking her hands in his. She stood before him as he was still seated on the stool.

"I don't know, it's silly," she attempted to laugh it off.

"Molly, whatever it is, it's clearly bothering you," Sherlock pointed out. "It's not silly." He studied her face and noticed the makeup covering up what appeared to be dark circles beneath her eyes. "You haven't been sleeping well."

"Really, it's fine, Sherlock.," Molly insisted. "I'm sorry. This entire argument has been an absolute waste of time and it's fine. I'm fine."

"Could you please stop feeling like a hindrance and allow me to fix whatever is wrong? If it's something I can't fix, then at least I can listen," he told her softly. "Please?" Sherlock brought her knuckles up to his lips. "I love you."

"I just miss you," she said quietly. "I miss the snogging for hours on end and you don't lie with me in bed as often anymore. Of course, I don't expect you to whilst on a case, but I find it hard to sleep without you. Hell, I can hardly get a quick kiss on the cheek anymore."

Sherlock's face dropped as he realized how neglectful he had been lately. He hadn't meant to be, but having a flatmate again had him reverting back to how he acted with John. Molly was much more than a flatmate, though; she was his beloved and he had regretfully begun to let things slip.

"I am so sorry, Molly; I didn't even realize how neglectful I was being," he apologized.

"S'okay," she shrugged off, but it wasn't okay; not to Sherlock.

"I will make this up to you as soon as I close this case," he told her. "I do love you. You know that, right?" Molly nodded her head silently, a small smile forming on her face. Sherlock pressed a tender kiss to her lips and savored it, realizing it had been much too long since they had a truly good snogging. He regretted having to pull away from her to finish his specimen study, but he felt her squeeze his hand affectionately and knew things would be okay.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** how's that for a creative argument? damn, this chapter was tough until it all clicked lol


	7. Strawberry Wine

Sherlock made a breakthrough in the case two days later, just in time for the weekend. Molly had Friday and Saturday off which was a rare occurrence with her hectic work schedule. He was thrilled to be spending quality time with her and had planned a surprise night out for them.

Molly was reading her book on the sofa, glasses adorning her face, when Sherlock came home from NSY. He seated himself beside her, pulling her into a hug, his chin resting on her shoulder as he pressed soft kisses below her ear.

"What's all this for?" she asked, delighted by his affections. He continued to trail his lips down her neck as he answered.

"Mm, because I love you," he murmured against her skin. Lifting his head up, Sherlock ran his knuckles softly across her cheek. "And I closed the case so I'm taking you out tonight."

"Oh really, now?" Molly smiled.

"Yep," he grinned, popping the 'p.' "It's not often I get to show off my girlfriend, is it?"

"You are a show off," she laughed, playfully swatting at his shoulder. "I thought you detested the word 'girlfriend.'"

"I do but not for the reason you're thinking," he informed her. "You're much more than that to me, Molly, you're the love of my life."

"And you're mine too," she told him, "but you can't go around introducing me like that."

"Who says?" Sherlock smirked. Molly rolled her eyes in amusement and ventured toward the bedroom to get dressed. "I could help you in there." She could practically hear the wink in his voice.

"Tempting, but I got this one," she replied, throwing a wink his way before shutting the door.

* * *

Molly stepped out of the room moments later, her hair braided to the side. She wore a yellow flowy strapless summer dress with a handkerchief skirt paired with a mini faded denim jacket and strappy black flats on her feet.

"You are so beautiful," Sherlock spoke breathily. Molly blushed under his adoring gaze as he lifted the back of her hand to his lips.

"And you are handsome, as always," she told him.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering the crook of his arm to her. Molly slipped her arm through his and they ventured down to the street, walking to their destination in the warm summer air.

"So, who did it?" Molly questioned. "The murder, I mean."

"The brother, believe it or not," Sherlock answered. "Sibling rivalry gone wrong."

"Not like your sibling rivalry, I hope," Molly joked.

"No," he chuckled. "Contrary to popular belief, I could never do that to Mycroft nor him to me."

Molly gasped, "you care."

"Molly," he warned.

"Oh, you so care!" she sang. "You two love each other, I knew it!"

"Please, Molly, not out loud. Big brother is literally watching," Sherlock laughed.

Upon entering the restaurant, Angelo greeted them happily.

"Sherlock, to what do I owe this visit?" he asked. "And who is this lovely young lady on your arm?" Molly stifled a giggle.

"This is Molly Hooper," Sherlock replied adoringly, "and she is the love of my life." She felt breathless when he introduced her as such. Surely he had been joking earlier, but he was serious.

"There's something you don't hear every day," Angelo smiled. "I'll give you my best table." They followed him to a table toward the back and took their drink order; a bottle of strawberry wine, Molly's favourite. Sherlock became quite partial to it as well. When Angelo returned, he placed a candle in the center of their table.

"Sherlock, this is lovely, really. Thank you," she told him, as he poured wine into her glass.

"I wanted to," he smirked. "Besides, you deserve it, Molly." He paused a moment, mulling things over in his mind. "You deserve much more than I'm capable of."

"Don't talk like that," Molly warned him. He opened his mouth to protest. "No, Sherlock, I won't let you talk yourself down like that." She took his hand in hers, her thumb running across his knuckles. "You are all I have ever wanted. I know there are times when we'll be too busy for each other and we'll fight and it'll be messy, but at the end of the day, we love each other and that's all that matters."

"What would I do without you, Molly Hooper?" Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she was right.

* * *

"You are so not gonna win," Molly giggled as they made it inside of the hallway. Mrs. Hudson peeked to see what all the ruckus was about and smiled to herself as she saw a tipsy Sherlock and Molly. She was sure her herbal soothers would be needed tonight; or maybe just earplugs.

"Molllly," Sherlock purred when they finally made it into their flat. "I always win."

"Oh really? Prove it then, detective boy," she challenged.

"The game is on, Miss Hooper," he replied with a smirk.

* * *

"No way! No, absolutely no way! You definitely cheated," Molly laughed.

"I did no such thing; you need to observe more," Sherlock told her.

"Give me a little credit, my mind's all fuzzy from the wine," she countered.

"So is mine, but I solved the case," he winked. "Miss Scarlet in the ballroom with the revolver." They sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, the Cluedo board covered in cards.

"You think you are so clever," Molly teased.

"I am so clever," Sherlock boasted. "Very clever, in fact."

"Humour me," she told him. He leaned in close and brushed his lips lightly up and across her jawline, stopping at her ear.

"I was clever enough to finally tell you how I felt," he whispered. "I love you." Sherlock stood and offered his hand to her to help her up. He walked over to the end table beside the sofa and put a record on Molly's turntable that sat there. Billie Holiday's _I Can't Believe that you're in Love with Me_ began to play and all Molly could do was smile as he pulled her into his arms.

"Your eyes are blue, your kisses too; I never knew what they could do. I can't believe you're in love with me," Molly sang as they danced barefoot in the sitting room. He twirled her around and brought her in close, her back now against his chest with his arms wrapped around her waist.

"And after all is said and done, to think that I'm the lucky one; I can't believe you're in love with me," he crooned softly in her ear. He slipped off her denim jacket, tossing it onto the yellow chair she claimed as her own. Molly sighed with pleasure as he placed open-mouthed kisses on her bare shoulder, trailing his lips ever so slowly toward her neck. Molly turned around to face him and guided him to the sofa when the next song began. She seated herself in his lap and kissed him fervently, undoing the buttons of his shirt. Their wine soaked kisses were delicious and addicting. As the music played and a light summer rain fell outside, they lost themselves in each other for the night.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Y'all, I love writing tipsy!sherlolly lol


	8. A Night In

**To the lovely guest reviewer, thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy the outfits I put together for Molly on ao3! :)**

* * *

Molly woke with a slight pounding in her head, wanting nothing more than to have a cup of coffee and take an aspirin, but didn't want to move out of the warmth of Sherlock's arms. She felt him press a kiss to her cheek from behind.

"Good morning," he spoke lowly, his voice hoarse.

"Mm, morning," she replied, nuzzling closer to him.

"Coffee?" he asked.

"God, yes," Molly gave a small laugh. He moved to get up and tossed on his dressing gown. She decided the view from the sofa was quite nice but shivered from the loss of his body heat. Sherlock tucked the blanket tighter around her, and she couldn't help but squirm under his light touch as she was extremely ticklish.

"I'm trying to keep you warm, stop squirming," he chuckled.

"Can't help it," she giggled. Sherlock leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, smiling as she scrunched it up at him. He disappeared into the kitchen and came back out moments later with two cups of coffee. Molly sat up, still wrapped in her fuzzy blanket.

"You okay?" Sherlock asked as he seated him beside her.

"Hm? Yeah, it's just a small headache," Molly replied. He handed her the cup of coffee and she took it gratefully, taking a sip. "It's worth it though; I had fun last night." She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I did too," he told her. "We don't get to go out often." He pressed a kiss in her hair and took a sip of his own cup. "Maybe you can help on my next case."

"I already help with your cases," she pointed out.

"I know. I just meant like last time when I came back," Sherlock explained.

"I'd like that," Molly smiled. She paused then and laughed, "Mind the gap." He laughed along with her.

"There's no way he had a girlfriend," he snickered.

"Hush you," she giggled, playfully shoving her shoulder against his arm. "Someone might be saying the same about you."

"Touché," Sherlock agreed.

* * *

After dinner that evening, Molly appeared behind Sherlock in her polka dot pajamas.

"Want to help with dessert?" she asked.

"Is snogging a dessert?" he grinned cheekily.

"No, but I think you'll like this just as much," Molly told him. "Any guesses?"

"I don't guess, I observe," Sherlock pointed out.

"Well, then observe, Sherlock Holmes," Molly teased.

"The oven is preheating to one hundred and eighty degrees Celsius; eggs, flour, butter, syrup and brown sugar set out by the mixing bowl. But you left out one important ingredient," Sherlock told her.

"Oh? And what might that be?" she inquired, backing into the counter to block the spice rack.

"Ginger," he replied, attempting to reach around her. Molly stopped his hand from reaching the spice.

"That's gonna cost you," she smirked.

"Oh? And what do you require?" Sherlock asked, playing along.

"A good snogging," Molly answered playfully. She didn't even catch the moment he was leaning in before his lips were on hers, kissing her deeply, tongues tangling and hands in each other's hair. When Sherlock broke away, they were both out of breath.

"Will that suffice?" he questioned, his breathing heavy. Molly reached behind her and grabbed the ginger, nodding. She was too dazed to form any words. He was a bloody good kisser and his ability to take her breath away never ceased to amaze her.

They baked the ginger nuts together but not without a couple of instances where they pranked each other with some of the ingredients. Flour was thrown and the batter was dabbed on each other's noses by the time the biscuits made their way into the oven. Sherlock leaned down to kiss the batter off of her nose…at least that's what she thought.

"Did you just lick my nose!?" she laughed.

"Payback for licking my hand in the lab supply closet," he chuckled.

* * *

Molly was taking the biscuits out of the oven while Sherlock sat on the sofa, flipping through channels.

"Anything good on the telly tonight?" she called out to him.

"Not unless you like awful horror movies," he replied.

"I'm game," Molly smiled. "I love laughing at terrible low budget movies."

"If you insist," he smiled. They settled in under Molly's blanket, curled up together and sharing a platter of ginger nuts. They made fun of the awful effects and terrible acting. It was so painfully obvious to guess the typical clichés of each character, though they did compete to figure out who the murderer was in each film.

Molly had dozed off hours later, tucked up against him. Sherlock's attention had readjusted from the telly to his girlfriend sleeping peacefully in his arms. He felt a shift within his mind palace in the room where all things Molly were concerned. He's always trusted her and somewhere in the middle of all the awful but hilarious morbid jokes, experiments and cases, he fell in love with her.

It had scared him at first, asking for her help with his faked death. He was nervous when he returned and heartbroken when her engagement became real to him. Sherlock had felt himself losing her and felt it again after the phone call, but each time, Molly Hooper surprised him with her devotion and unconditional love. He wondered if she knew how devoted he truly was to her.

Molly stirred in her sleep when he carried her to their bedroom in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open long enough to look up at him with a sweet smile. She turned her head and placed a kiss on his chest, over his heart which swelled with so much emotion at her affection.

"Love you," she spoke softly, as he laid her down.

"I love you too, Molly," he replied. "Always."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I really love writing these two. It's so natural; the inside jokes, camaraderie and love between them. It's not just the big things that make up a romance, but rather all of the little things that build up between two people in love. Those are the things that matter most.


	9. Never a Dull Moment

"I'm home, Sherlock, what did you want to—what is all of this?" she asked, stepping over and ducking under the various papers and photos strung across the sitting room.

"Oh, Molly, it's brilliant! Family and friends of Ethan Murray threw him a surprise party, but instead of the man in question showing up, they received his ashes and a note from the murderer," Sherlock explained. "Would you care to take this case with me?"

"Sounds interesting, I'm in," Molly remarked, still trying to find her way through the maze. Her foot tripped over a lower string and Sherlock caught her with his strangely cat-like reflexes. Speaking of cat-like… "Where's Toby?" A loud pop from the kitchen sounded and Toby yelped at it.

"Kitchen; popped my balloon," Sherlock chuckled.

"Oh my God," she laughed wholeheartedly, clutching her aching stomach. "Life is never dull with you, Sherlock."

"Of course it's not," he replied smugly, but flashed a beautiful eye-crinkling smile at her.

* * *

Sherlock was furiously typing away on his phone when Molly appeared from the bathroom, freshly showered. His eyes flicked over to her searching through the cabinets in the kitchen.

"Any particularly special reason you're wearing my shirt?" he asked. She wore his aubergine button up that went down to mid-thigh. Each raise on her tip toes as she looked into the cabinets gave Sherlock a flash of her lacy yellow knickers. He smirked to himself, finding another reason to love her short stature.

"It's comfy," she shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing a bag of crisps. Molly skipped over, ready to sit in what was deemed as John's chair when Sherlock gently tugged on her wrist.

"And where," he began, "do you think you're going?" She followed his lead and backed up, ready to sit on the arm of his chair but he stopped her suddenly and took hold of her hips, pressing a kiss onto the small of her back before pulling her into his lap.

"What does this investigation involve?" Molly asked, popping a crisp into her mouth.

"His family has a charity fundraiser coming up and I'd like to use the opportunity to search their house," Sherlock told her. "Of course, I'll need to acquire a fake wife for the evening."

"Oh? Who were you planning to ask?" she teased.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson surely," he joked.

"Smart arse," Molly laughed.

"No, I'm serious," Sherlock insisted, unable to keep the amused grin off of his face.

"Oh, well then, I guess there's no point in attempting to seduce you, Mister Holmes," she flirted, making a show of moving off of him until he brought her back to him, his lips next to her ear.

"I assure you, Miss Hooper, there is always a reason to seduce me," he purred. "Furthermore, your choice of nightclothes and knickers leads me to deduce that your very goal was to seduce me." He winked at her. "Now, will you be my fake wife?"

"I'd love to. After all, you've deduced correctly," she told him. "Deduction is the new seduction, Mister Holmes." His breath hitched at her remark. Molly slinked off to the bedroom with Sherlock eagerly following right after.

* * *

The following weekend, Sherlock and Molly were readying for the charity fundraiser. Molly had just finished her hair and makeup when she met Sherlock in the sitting room.

"You're quite becoming in that dress, darling," he told her, his face showing a look of pure adoration. Taking her hand in his, Sherlock slipped a beautiful vintage engagement ring on her finger along with a band of rose gold encrusted with diamonds. The engagement ring was also rose gold, a heart shaped diamond set in the center with studded butterflies on either side of it.

"Sherlock, where did you get these?" Molly gasped at how beautiful they were and the fact they fit her perfectly.

"My maternal grandmother's rings; had my mother send them over," he explained. She didn't question him further for fear of saying too much. Molly planned on truly acting the part, as it was probably the one time they'd ever 'be married.' So, she took the arm he held out to her and they left to be taken to their destination by one of the cars Mycroft had sent.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The investigation is next chapter hehe :p


	10. Lights Out

"Mr. and Mrs. Hooper, I presume, come in, please," the host, Ethan Murray's father, told them. Molly stifled the smirk at the name he had given. "May I take your coat?" This was aimed at her and she nodded briefly, allowing him to take it and hang it up.

"Thank you," she smiled. Sherlock slid his arm around her waist as they ventured into the crowd of people.

"Keep an eye out for anything suspicious; people, things," Sherlock whispered in her ear. He then pressed a kiss in her hair seamlessly having others think he had just spoken sweet nothings to her. They mingled with the other guests hoping someone would mention the recently deceased.

Sherlock had pulled her in for a dance as they scanned the room. Molly started to bring her fingers up to rest in his hair until she remembered he had slicked back his curls for the night. She thought he looked very distinguished and could easily picture him in the Victorian era, deciding it suited him.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, his voice low.

"Immensely," Molly answered. Sherlock spun her around and brought her back in. They glided gracefully to the other side of the room, searching for new people to talk with. Their dance ended when he dipped her and lowered his lips to the side of her neck before pulling her back up. A few people clapped at the display.

"You two move so well together," a woman remarked. "Sorry, where are my manners? I'm Eileen Murray."

"William Hooper," Sherlock replied. "And this is my lovely wife, Margaret."

"Hello," Molly smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Eileen replied. "I must say I've never seen two people more in love than the two of you. It's refreshing. How did you meet?"

"Uni, my first year, his second," Molly answered.

"Yes, we were both chemistry majors," Sherlock continued. "The first time I saw her in the lab, I was taken by her beauty and intelligence." It took all of Molly's will to not act surprised. Sherlock had told her before they arrived that the best cover stories involve a slightly twisted truth. Did he really think that the day they met?

"How wonderful," Eileen beamed but it did not reach her eyes. "Ethan and his wife, Sarah, were very much in love."

"My condolences," Molly said, nodding at the jar of ashes labeled 'Ethan' with the date it was delivered to them; just a week before the fundraiser.

"Oh, thank you," Eileen responded. "It's been difficult but I insisted on still holding the fundraiser; you know, throw myself into something to distract myself."

"A tragedy; I am sorry for your loss Mrs. Murray," Sherlock told her.

"Well, I better go check on the food," she returned.

"Shall we have another dance, darling?" he asked Molly. She nodded and allowed him to sweep her up in his arms. Molly raised her eyebrows in question as if to ask if he had any ideas and his own eyes answered with a maybe. They were always in tune with one another that way; no words had to be spoken for them to talk.

They danced for a while longer out of enjoyment before Molly decided to go off and try to find the bathroom to conveniently 'get lost.' She found the bedroom of Ethan's parents and scanned the room for any sign of the note that they had received from the killer. She quietly checked drawers and beneath the bed before searching the closet but there was nothing. Successfully making her way out of the bedroom without being caught, Molly checked all of the doors upstairs to try and find the actual bathroom.

She found Ethan's old bedroom first and decided to snoop around. Molly almost lost her balance on a loose floor board. Pressing down on it harder, she slowly lifted the end of it to find thousands, maybe millions, of pounds hidden in the darkness. She quickly put the board back in place before exiting the room and finding the bathroom. As her hand made contact with the door, a voice sounded.

"Can I help you?" Mr. Murray's voice almost gave her a shock.

"I was just looking for the bathroom," Molly told him.

"You've got the right door on your first try," he smiled. She smiled back and quickly enclosed herself within the room. The first thing she did was check the medicine cabinet for any unusual medications, just to see what she was dealing with. There was nothing out of the ordinary; aspirin, a small first aid kit, Nyquil and sinus pills. Sherlock would be more interested in the stacks of money she had found, anyhow. Molly had a feeling someone killed him for the life insurance; quite possibly Ethan's wife or even one of his parents. Her bet was on the father.

* * *

As they ate dinner, she and Sherlock spoke to each other through glances unless it was a conversation to keep up the married charade. It wasn't difficult at all considering most people assumed they were married with the way they playfully bickered.

"How did he propose?" one woman had asked. Sherlock awaited Molly's answer with an amused smirk.

"It was all very unplanned," Molly laughed. "We were having a lovely night in together, dancing to Billie Holiday when he just blurted it out."

"It's true," Sherlock chuckled. "I was so nervous about planning it perfectly, it just sort of happened." He threw a wink at her then. A rumble of thunder sounded outside when the lights went out. A few people gasped and Molly felt Sherlock take her hand across the table. The sound of dishes clattering filled the room and they all sat in darkness for a brief moment before the lights came back on. A woman screamed at the sight before them. Ethan's widowed wife, Sarah, was dead.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm totally going whodunit on y'all lol!


	11. Closed Cases

The shock of the night's turn only wore down a little. The entire house was on lockdown after Sherlock texted Lestrade. His and Molly's charade was up as he had to be Sherlock Holmes now.

"She was poisoned; her soup was laced with arsenic," he deducted.

"Who was in charge of cooking the food?" Lestrade asked.

"I was but I swear I didn't do this," Eileen Murray cried. "I just lost my son and now my daughter-in-law."

"Sherlock," Molly whispered. He turned to her and saw the look in her eyes she had when she knew something. With her voice lowered she told him, "I found stacks of money beneath a loose floorboard in Ethan's old room." Sherlock smiled at her proudly before going into another one of his longwinded speeches.

"Perhaps your son is not dead, Mrs. Murray," he suggested. "I assume that Sarah was to receive Ethan's life insurance money but it was intercepted somehow." Eileen nodded, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "So this gives me reason to believe that your son faked his death to gain his own life insurance money and offed his wife for hers. There was no body the day you found out he was dead; just a jar of his supposed ashes and a note from the murderer. I would like to see this note if you still have it."

"Mr. Holmes, I know you are well versed in your profession, but I have plenty of reason to doubt that Ethan did this," Mr. Murray spoke up.

"Love is blind, Mr. Murray; you only see what you want if you do not observe," Sherlock countered. Eileen came back with the note and handed it to him. It was typed to disguise any attempt at handwriting.

 _Tin reh moo ehw Ier esu dot els kpe ,pee nar aet uor ofe hto lfb ror aod erc ka._

"It's gibberish," Lestrade complained.

"It's written in tri code," Molly informed him.

"That's my girl," Sherlock beamed. "Yes, Miss Hooper is correct. When worked out, it says 'In the room where I used to sleep, keep an ear out for the floorboard creak.'" The party guests were awestruck by the unraveling mystery. "This means that Ethan did not do this alone; this note was meant for one of his parents who knew of his plans. Molly? Have an educated guess?"

"Mr. Murray," she answered.

"Indeed!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Ethan had promised him a cut of the money if he helped. Your role? To poison Sarah's soup, as you and Mrs. Murray were the ones who set the table."

"I applaud you, Mr. Holmes," Mr. Murray remarked. Lestrade cuffed him immediately. Mrs. Murray was too horrified to speak, but her anger shown plainly on her face.

"So, where's Ethan?" Molly asked.

"Possibly ready to make a getaway," Sherlock replied, rushing up the stairs with Molly right behind him. They made it to the landing and she pointed out where Ethan's room was. There he was on the floor quickly stuffing a bag with the money. Sherlock withdrew handcuffs out of his jacket pocket and locked Ethan's wrists in.

They made it back downstairs where Lestrade and the other officers took care of the rest. Mrs. Murray was a mess of emotions, not knowing what to think. Molly offered some soothing words to the woman and walked her into the kitchen to fix her a cup of tea. Ethan and Mr. Murray were taken away shortly after as well as Sarah's corpse. The guests left once the madness died down and Molly left with Sherlock once Mrs. Murray was calmer.

* * *

In their pajamas, Sherlock and Molly stood side by side in front of the bathroom mirror getting ready for bed, playfully shoving one another in the small space. He noticed the glint of the rings that still decorated her finger. Molly was taken aback when his lips suddenly crashed into hers, the different mint flavors from their toothpaste intermingling. Sherlock lifted her in his arms as her legs wrapped around his waist to keep her balance. He carried her into the sitting room, their foreheads pressed together.

"You are brilliant, Molly Hooper," Sherlock smiled.

"Am I now?" she giggled.

"Yes," he murmured as he kissed her cheek. "And kind and selfless and beautiful." He punctuated each complimentary fact with a kiss. Setting her feet down to the floor, he took her left hand in his and kneeled down before her on both knees, kissing her fingertips.

"Sherlock, what are you—"

"Marry me."

Their words overlapped each other. She stood with her mouth slightly agape.

"Molly, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. For some reason, you chose me and I cannot begin to tell you how often your love has saved me. You are my best friend and favourite lab partner and quite honestly the love of my life," he continued. Molly lowered herself on her knees in front of him and took his face in her hands, gently stroking his cheekbones.

"And you're all of those things to me too, Sherlock," she told him. "If this is what you really want, then of course I'll marry you. I love you and I want the rest of my life to be spent with you too."

"Of course it's what I want, Molly. For you to be my wife, to eventually be the mother of my children if that's something you'd like; I want it all with you. I've never been more sure," he replied sincerely.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Really?" he asked, seemingly surprised by her response despite her prior remark.

"Yes, really," she laughed, crying happily. Sherlock laughed happily with her. "You might want to save the wedding ring for later though." Molly slipped it off of her finger, leaving only the engagement ring and handed it back over to him.

"Are you sure we can't just get married now?" he joked.

"Sherlock Holmes, you bugger, I love you," Molly said with a playful push to his shoulder.

"Does that mean yes?" Sherlock asked.

"No," she replied and quickly got up to run to the bedroom. Sherlock followed right after and reached her before she got to the door. He wrapped his arms around her and blew raspberries into her neck. Her endless giggling was heard downstairs by Mrs. Hudson who just smiled at their antics.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Ah, finally engaged lol! And yes, tri-code is real. I left a link on ao3 for it :)


	12. Growing Together

Molly felt elated today, dressed in jeans, a yellow polka dot blouse and a white cardigan. She grabbed her purse on her way to the door when Sherlock looked up from his laptop.

"Molly, brilliant, just made a breakthrough on my experiment," he informed her.

"That's great!" she exclaimed. "I have to go to Meena's though."

"Oh right, the baby shower," he remembered. "Don't forget Meena's gift." Sherlock held it out to her. He had actually helped her pick it out surprisingly.

"Oh, thank you," Molly replied. "It would do no good to arrive without it." She slipped the gift bag onto her wrist and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you later."

"Have fun," Sherlock called out to her as she left.

* * *

Molly had stayed behind after everyone left to help Meena tidy up.

"Thanks for helping, Molly," Meena told her. "And for the chemistry sensory mat. It's very you." She laughed at this.

"Oh, it was nothing," Molly told her. "When Sherlock and I saw it, I knew we had to get it for your little one."

"Sherlock picked it out with you?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, he didn't want me to say anything about him having a hand in it, so just pretend you don't know," Molly explained.

"He went into a baby store with you, though? Sherlock Holmes?" Meena questioned.

"Yes, Meena," she laughed. "Anyways, I better get going; there's an experiment calling my name."

"You two are so weird," Meena laughed. "And don't think I didn't notice that gorgeous engagement ring, Molly! I need details soon!"

"It's cool to be weird!" Molly exclaimed as she took her leave.

* * *

When Molly arrived home, she found Sherlock on the sofa, fingertips steepled together beneath his chin. She seated herself on the opposite end, and though he was in his mind palace, Sherlock was always aware of her presence. He came to long enough to lie down and settle his head on her lap. Her fingers gently twisted his curls just the way he liked it.

Molly ended up lost in her own thoughts until the feel of his lips on her wrist brought her back to reality. He pressed an open mouthed kiss over her pulse point before kissing the finger adorned by her engagement ring.

"Did you have fun?" he asked.

"Mhmm," Molly answered.

"And she liked the gift?" Sherlock questioned.

"She did," Molly told him. "Want to share your findings of your experiment?"

"You know me so well, Molly Hooper," he smiled before they stood, venturing off to the kitchen together.

"What's this?" she asked, pointing to a flower stuck upside down in a glass.

"Separate experiment," he replied, switching on the blacklight. Molly followed his lead and turned off the kitchen light as he removed the flower from the glass of bright liquid. It was glowing in the dark from the mixture it had been set in.

"Wow, it's gorgeous," Molly marveled.

"For you," Sherlock smiled, putting it in a vase and handing it over to her.

"Why, thank you," she told him, rising up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "So, what's this breakthrough you've made?"

"Ah, yes, well," Sherlock clasped his hands together, "ever since we pursued our romantic endeavors, I have been cataloguing in my mind the chemistry of love." Molly's lips quirked up in amusement. "Of course, I compiled all of the various chemicals that play a part in all of this: testosterone, oestrogen, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin and vasopressin."

"Go on," she encouraged.

"All are obviously necessary for romantic entanglements. I had studied up on all of them more closely; especially the latter two which are released post-coitus," he told her.

"You sound like Sheldon Cooper," Molly laughed. He gave a look of confusion at her remark. "Nevermind; you were saying?"

"Right, well, I had learned that the post-coital release of oxytocin and vasopressin supposedly deepened the bond of a relationship. I did not believe it, as it sounded fanciful, but have come to realize there is truth behind it from our own experience," Sherlock explained. "Now, please, keep in mind that I don't view our relationship as an experiment, I was simply trying to apply logic to something I did not understand at first."

"I know," she assured him. "Tell me more." Her eyes were bright as she looked up into his.

"In conclusion," he continued softly, "I feel deeply bonded to you; our chemistry has always been obvious. On a more sentimental note, which I realize is quite unlike me, but I am quite emotionally bonded to you as well. Though, I suppose that's evident."

"Nonsense," Molly remarked. "Being sentimental is not unlike you; you're one of the most sentimental people I know." She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his heart. He buried his hands in her hair, holding her close. It was a quiet moment that spoke volumes, the only sound was their breathing and the beating of their hearts.


	13. Ambushed

The next few weeks kept Sherlock busy with cases. John helped most of the time while either Mrs. Hudson or Molly would watch Rosie. Today was a case free day for Sherlock. Much to his surprise, Molly came home early in frustration, storming off to the kitchen. He put his violin down as he watched her lean over the sink, taking out the elastic band and running her hands through her hair.

"Molly, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. She didn't answer. "Darling?"

"It's nothing; I just got emotional during an autopsy and was sent home," Molly sighed. She looked exhausted down to her bones. "It was a child; two years old. Kidnapping and homicide." Sherlock wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned into her.

"Is there anything I can do?" he spoke quietly.

"Just hold me for a bit," she replied, turning to face him and burying her face in his chest. Sherlock held her tight to him as she cried until she could no longer. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her into the sitting room and laid her down on the sofa, covering her up with the blanket that draped over the back of it.

"I'll be right back; I'm just going to make you a cup of tea," Sherlock told her. She gave him a small smile as he padded his way into the kitchen.

When he returned, she sat up and took the warm cup in her hands. Sherlock seated himself beside her and placed a hand on her lower back, tracing circles with his thumb to soothe her. He admitted to himself that he wasn't sure what to really say that could help; sometimes words aren't what's needed anyways. Just his presence alone seemed to be enough to calm her as she was nearly falling asleep in his arms. He gently pried the cup from her hand and set it down on the table.

"What was that you were working on?" Molly asked, nodding at the Stradivarius.

"A lullaby for Rosie; it's not finished yet," Sherlock replied.

"Can I hear it?" she questioned. He simply smiled at her and stood to ready his violin and began to draw the bow across the strings. Molly settled back in her blanket and laid down as she listened to the beautiful composition. He played for her until she was soundly asleep, the day's exhaustion catching up to her.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes was not prepared for the onslaught that the weekend brought. John and Rosie had stopped by, which was the normal visitation he enjoyed. Mrs. Hudson prepared biscuits and brought them up. The part that caught him off-guard was Mycroft's arrival…with their parents.

"William, how come you never told us you were engaged!?" his mother scolded him. "We had to find out from your brother who only found out from CCTV cameras."

"Uncle Sherlock's in trouble now," John chuckled, looking at Rosie.

"Why haven't you told us, son?" Mr. Holmes questioned. "A simple phone call would have done."

"I was waiting to bring Molly with me for a visit," Sherlock defended himself.

"Now, Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson began, "you've been engaged for two months and there was never any plans of a visit."

"It's been busy," he replied, desperately wishing Molly was here. She'd be home from work very soon but it wasn't soon enough.

* * *

When she did arrive, it couldn't have been more awkward, as she did not realize there were any visitors.

"Alright, detective boy, there's a body that needs to be examined in the bed—" her eyes widened as she noticed his parents smiling gleefully at her. Did she just say that in front of them? Her cheeks flushed bright red. John and Mycroft's mouths were agape; one in amusement, the other in horror. Sherlock was the first to break the silence, unable to keep from laughing at Molly's faux pas.

"Aunt Mowwy!" Rosie exclaimed. Molly put her bag down and quickly went over to lift her goddaughter in her arms.

"Well, hello there," she greeted the Holmes parents.

"Hello, my dear," Mr. Holmes smiled.

"We were just grilling Sherlock as to why he never told us you two were engaged," Mrs. Holmes informed her.

"You never told them!?" Molly glared at her fiancé.

"W-well, I was going to," he said weakly.

"When? On our wedding day?" she asked.

"Okay, I know this is a bit not good," Sherlock admitted.

"Brother mine, it seems that you are, as they say, 'in the doghouse,'" Mycroft smirked.

* * *

The evening continued in celebration of their engagement at his parents' behest. When everyone left, she and Sherlock welcomed the silence. He found her in the bedroom, changing into pajamas.

"Detective boy?" he laughed.

"Shut up," Molly threw her shirt at him, leaving her clad in only a bra and trousers.

"Are you mad at me?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"No," she sighed. "I mean, I was, at first, but it's not anything to really have a row over." He walked over to her and settled his chin on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he told her, kissing her cheek. Molly brought her hand up to rest in his hair, keeping him close to her.

"It's okay," Molly said softly before turning her head to give him a chaste kiss. "Could you hand me my bag?" Sherlock stepped away from her and handed it over just as she adjusted her tank top. She dug through it and pulled out a brown mahogany leather journal with the initial 'S' embossed on the bottom right corner. She held it out to him.

"What's this?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I was out doing a little shopping on my lunch break and when I saw it, I thought you might like it to keep track of your experiments in," Molly told him. "At least that way, you won't have a pile of papers spilling out from random places."

"Did I miss an occasion?" he inquired, slipping the journal from her hand and into his.

"No," she laughed. "You don't need an occasion to buy a gift for someone."

"Oh," he replied like a child who learned something new. "Well, thank you, Molly. This is very considerate of you."

"You're welcome," she smiled.

"Though, I am afraid those pajamas are just going to have to go," he told her. "How am I supposed to examine you?"

"It's gonna cost ya," Molly teased.

"Mm, what do you require?" he asked.

"One kiss per item of clothing," she answered.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Sherlock pulled Molly to him as she slept. He nuzzled his face against her hair covering the back of her neck. It had been a while since they laughed so much together during a night of making love. He silently thanked the God who he didn't quite believe in for the woman he loved who now lay in his arms.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** How was that awkward entrance for Molly? ahaha!


	14. Only Human

Sherlock arrived at the lab to find Molly sitting at his usual spot, a takeaway box of fish and chips on the table.

"You're in my spot," he playfully complained.

"Yep," Molly smirked.

"Can I have it back?" he asked.

"Nope," she told him. Sherlock popped a couple of her chips in his mouth. "Hey! I was eating that, you git!" Molly was laughing no matter how much she tried to sound upset. He took another one with a roll of his eyes.

"I'll buy dinner tonight," Sherlock offered.

"Thank you; now, stop eating my chips," Molly giggled.

"After I close this case, I'm going to be gone for a while," he informed her. "Something Mycroft has assigned me to."

"Classified?" she asked. He nodded. "For how long?"

"A couple of weeks at most," Sherlock replied.

"You'll come home to me?" Molly questioned softly.

"Always," he told her.

* * *

John and Molly took Rosie for ice cream a week later. She was thankful for the distraction and happy to spend more time with her goddaughter.

"So, uh, how are you and Sherlock doing?" John asked.

"Pretty well," Molly smiled, scooping a spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream in her mouth.

"You and Sherlock both with that ice cream," he remarked making a look of disgust.

"You don't like mint chocolate chip?" she asked in disbelief.

"No, not at all," he replied. "Mary loved it though." Molly scooped a little onto her spoon and fed it to Rosie who took to it like a fish takes to water.

"Mmmm," Rosie sounded.

"Yep, definitely her mother's daughter," John chuckled.

* * *

 **I miss you. SH**

Molly woke up at two in the morning to his message.

 **I miss you too, Sherlock. xxx MH**

 **How's the case? MH**

 **Great, actually. Might be home sooner than I thought. SH**

 **I know who did it; just need to catch them. SH**

 **Just please be safe. MH**

 **I will, I promise. SH**

 **How was your day? SH**

 **Good. Went out for ice cream with John and Rosie earlier. MH**

 **Rosie loves mint chocolate chip :p MH**

 **John must be so thrilled. SH**

 **Oh, he's fine lol! I've got a double shift starting in the morning. MH**

 **You should get some sleep. SH**

 **I'll try. Goodnight, Sherlock. MH**

 **I love you. MH**

 **I love you too. Sleep well. x SH**

* * *

The last two days had been exhausting for Molly. Thankful that Stamford had told her to take off her night shift early, she went to the locker room to retrieve her ring and put away her lab coat. She hadn't heard from Sherlock since two nights ago when he texted her. The awful feeling in the pit of her stomach wasn't wrong, she learned, when Mike came to find her again.

"Hey, Mike, what's wrong?" she asked, closing her locker.

"It's Sherlock," he told her. "I'm sorry, Molly, he's been stabbed. They're patching him up right now; he'll be fine though."

"Take me to him, please," she pleaded.

* * *

Molly sat by his bedside, holding his hand. The wound was made in his pectoralis minor. Sherlock hadn't woken yet and though she had been assured he would be fine, she was still worried. She didn't cry…at least, not until he woke up hours later.

"Molly," he spoke hoarsely. Her tears fell immediately, streaming down her face.

"You promised!" Molly cried. "You said you would be safe and—"

"I know," Sherlock told her solemnly. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm glad you're gonna be okay," she replied. "I just knew something awful had happened. I felt it."

"I came home to you though," he said, trying to look on the bright side.

"Barely," Molly remarked. "God, Sherlock, what happened? You've never been so careless."

"I—" he began. "Molly, I honestly don't know. I miscalculated. I shouldn't have let myself slip."

"Sherlock, as much as you like to think otherwise, you're only human. You're not invincible, though there are times where even I thought you were," Molly told him. "Don't blame yourself. I'm sorry for raising my voice, it was wrong. I've just been so worried."

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he asked.

"Oh, Sherlock," she laughed lightly. She carefully bent over him to press a kiss to his lips. "I love you." He smiled at her, moving his hand to trail his knuckles over her cheek gently.

"You should go home and get some sleep," Sherlock told her.

"If you think I'm going anywhere, you must be delusional," she replied.

"Always so stubborn," he chuckled, making room for her on the bed. "It's a good thing you're so small." Carefully, Molly adjusted herself beside him until she was as comfortable as she could get. Sherlock intertwined their fingers and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. With Molly on her side and him on his back, head turned towards her, their noses were just barely touching. Their exhaustion caught up to them quickly as they were soon sleeping soundly.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Just an FYI...I love mint chocolate chip ice cream. Where do y'all stand?


	15. We Have All These Plans

"Sorry to have woken you," Mycroft Holmes spoke, entering the hospital room. Molly had woken just as he arrived.

"I was waking up anyways," she told him. There was a short pause.

"How is he?" he asked.

"He'll be okay," Molly replied.

"Miss Hooper, I hope you know that I take full responsibility for what's happened. It was the case I assigned him after all," Mycroft told her in his best professional voice.

"The only person to be blamed is the man who did this to him," she said. "You are not at fault."

"That is very kind of you to say, Miss Hooper. The man in question has been detained," he informed her.

"How are you?" Molly asked.

"I am quite well with work today. I'd say it was a job well done, though—"

"No, Mycroft, I mean, how are you feeling?" she clarified.

"Oh, well, I uh," he struggled with answering, clearing is throat. His gaze shifted downward and his hands clasped behind his back. Molly had never seen him look so uneasy. "I am thoroughly distraught that I could've—that we could've possibly lost him."

"I wouldn't want to cause any distress," Sherlock suddenly remarked. Molly stood then and offered to give them some privacy. As she walked towards the door, she laid a comforting hand on Mycroft's upper arm and left to get something to eat in the canteen.

"How are you feeling?" Mycroft asked.

"Sore," Sherlock answered.

"I have given great thought to cutting back the amount of cases I send your way," the eldest Holmes confessed.

"Is it Christmas?" Sherlock asked.

"No," he rolled his eyes. "You're fine now of course, but what if one day you're not?" Mycroft took a deep breath before sitting in the chair beside the bed. "I meant what I said that Christmas; your loss would break my heart. And it would break the hearts of so many others. If I can do something to lower the risk of your loss, then I will do it. Think of your life, Sherlock. Your best friend, your goddaughter…your soon to be wife whom you plan to start your own family with. What good is any of it if you're not even alive to be with them? You're not getting any younger and neither am I."

"For God's sake, Mycroft, I'm only forty years old," Sherlock argued. "I do think of my life; a lot more than I used to, but I'm not going to cease all casework."

"I'm not saying you have to stop taking cases; by all means, take all the cases that DI Lestrade or your clients throw your way. All I'm saying is your work for me is done," Mycroft stated.

"So, if it's not Christmas, my birthday then?" Sherlock smirked.

"You've made your point," Mycroft told him. "Happy to have had this chat."

* * *

The first night Sherlock was home after being discharged, Molly made a complete fuss over him. She had made shepherd's pie and baked fresh ginger nuts for dessert.

"Molly, it's not that I don't appreciate it, because I really do, but you didn't have to do all of this," Sherlock told her.

"When's the last time you had a homecooked meal? Or rather, when's the last time that we had one together?" she asked.

"I see what you mean," he replied. "Thank you." There was a moment of silence as they ate together. "Mycroft isn't giving me any more cases."

"You're probably thrilled about that," Molly laughed.

"I am," Sherlock confirmed. "It has come to my attention that with everything going on lately, we haven't talked about our wedding beyond the date and time. Why is that? You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"No, of course not, Sherlock. It's just that we've both been so busy and I didn't want to distract you from more pressing matters," she answered.

"Well, I consider my impending marriage to the future Mrs. Holmes quite important," he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. A flutter went through her at the sound of her future surname spoken in his rich baritone voice.

"Tell me what you had in mind," Molly encouraged him. And so, the two of them discussed wedding plans that night, both quite eager to be planning it together. They had managed to make the small guest list and chose where they would have the wedding and reception. Mrs. Hudson had come up to bring them tea whilst also wondering what all the laughter was about. She never thought she'd see the day where Sherlock Holmes would plan his best friend's wedding, let alone his own.

"We should keep Mycroft seated away from the cake," he joked.

"Hush you," Molly giggled, playfully swatting at his arm. "One more crack like that and I'll take your ginger nut privileges."

"You wouldn't dare," Sherlock's jaw dropped in mock-seriousness.

"I would," she teased, her lips just barely touching his. Sherlock moved in to kiss her, unable to resist and Molly pulled away just slightly so he missed.

"You're not playing fair, Molly," he pouted with his arms crossed. She inched closer and took his face in her hands gently and pressed several light kisses on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. Molly laid her head on his shoulder afterward and lazily traced her lips across his jawline.

"Sherlock?" she asked.

"Hm?" he replied.

"I am truly sorry for how I reacted at the hospital," Molly told him. "I know your job can be dangerous and you can't always promise you'll be okay. I was just so worried and I no it's not an excuse but—"

"Molly, it's okay," Sherlock assured her. "I understand why you reacted that way. I'm understanding of a lot more now than I used to be."

"You know I'm proud of you, right? I've always been proud of what you've accomplished," she spoke softly. A surge of pride shot through him at her words.

"Thank you, my darling," he smiled. They were wrapped in a warm embrace, neither wanting to let go of the other. Molly was his home and Sherlock was hers.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** A huge thank you to Dreamin (strangelock221b on tumblr) for beta reading!


	16. Brainloaf

**Author's Note:** Just a short little interlude before the wedding next chapter. A small look into their domesticity.

* * *

"Molly," Sherlock called out, "I seem to be having trouble." He stepped into the kitchen, still fiddling with the black tie hanging around his neck. He wore his usual suit but with a white button up.

"You don't have to wear a tie," Molly giggled. They were attending a potluck for the hospital staff and Molly had prepared her own dish to bring.

"I know, but I thought I'd give it a try," he smiled.

"You want my opinion?" she asked. Sherlock nodded. "No tie, although," she continued, sliding the knot in place, "there is an advantage."

"Mm, like what?" he questioned. Molly took the tie in her hands and gently used it to pull him down towards her and brought their lips together. "I should wear these more often," he murmured. The oven timer went off and Molly stepped away from him to take out the dish.

"Not bad; could be better," she muttered.

"Is that a brain?" Sherlock asked.

"Meatloaf that looks like a brain, yes," Molly answered. "Too morbid?"

"Not for me, but it might be for them," he chuckled.

"Ah, well," she shrugged. "I just need to get ready and we'll go."

When Molly reappeared, Sherlock couldn't help but make a double take. She was dressed more casually with a black and white polka dot belted peplum top paired with mint green skinny jeans and black flats. Her hair was braided in a crown on her head with some loose short tendrils of hair framing her face.

"Is it alright?" Molly asked, giving herself a look over. Sherlock was chuckling. "Something funny, mister?"

"Molly, you look beautiful," he told her. "You always do."

"You're biased," she smirked.

"Perhaps, but I've never lied to you," Sherlock pointed out.

"True," Molly replied, grabbing the container with her brain meatloaf.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded and they left for the hospital.

* * *

Stamford had been happy to see Sherlock come along with Molly. Others were quite surprised to see him at a social event, let alone in complete domestic bliss. He was still a bit offstandish, but conversed more than usual; mostly with Molly or Mike. Several colleagues had congratulated Molly on her and Sherlock's upcoming nuptials. All in all, it wasn't a bad evening, but they were glad to be back home in 221B. Molly had fallen asleep almost instantly once she was in her pajamas and turned in for the night, kissing Sherlock's cheek before heading to the bedroom.

Sherlock had other plans, however. He had been working on a new composition; one that he hoped Molly would love and possibly agree to dance to for their first dance as husband and wife. The story within the music was theirs, from the moment they met to the moment she had agreed to marry him. He was pouring his heart and soul into it and became frustrated when he couldn't quite get his emotions across. Hours of rewrites later, it was nearly four in the morning when Molly woke to get a glass of water.

"Sherlock?" she asked with concern, approaching him as he was slumped in his chair in frustration. She noticed the music sheets strewn across the room and took his hand in hers. He looked up at her, clearly exhausted and stressed. "Why don't you come to bed? It may help to get some sleep."

"You're probably right," he agreed. "I'm just trying to perfect it and it's always so close but not quite there."

"I'm sure it will be beautiful either way, my love," Molly smiled. Sherlock took her lead and followed her to bed, sleep coming to him easily.


	17. From a Miss to a Mrs

September came quickly as did the weekend of their wedding. Mrs. Holmes had gone dress shopping with Molly after finding out about their engagement two months back. Mycroft had insisted on making the décor tasteful for the small backyard garden wedding at the Holmes' house. Sherlock stood at the yellow rose trellis alter with John by his side as best man. Meena stood opposite them as the maid of honor. Rosie practically skipped down the aisle as flower girl, her blonde curls adorned with the baby's breath flower crown Molly had made for her.

The guests who awaited Molly's procession were Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Mike, Mycroft, Mrs. Holmes and Meena's husband with their one month old son. Sherlock felt his breath being taken away as his father walked Molly down the aisle. She wore a lovely white strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline and lace applique. Her bouquet consisted of blue sweet Williams, white daisies and baby's breath. Her hair was in a braided crown that was brought into a curled bun at the back of her head with baby's breath interwoven.

Mr. Holmes placed Molly's hands in his son's and returned to his seat beside his wife. Surprisingly enough, Mycroft became ordained to officiate the marriage for them. Sherlock and Molly exchanged smiles and glances throughout the ceremony.

"I believe my brother and sister-in-law have prepared their own vows," Mycroft announced.

"Sherlock," Molly spoke. "Where to begin? I suppose I should start with the fact that I am honoured for you to have deemed me to be the only person besides your parents that can call you William." The guests chuckled when she said this. "It may seem strange to say that I feel as if I've known you my entire life. When we first met, I felt my whole world change and tilt on its axis. Over the years, I fell deeper in love with you the more I got to know you. You are frustrating and caring; loving and a bit careless at times. You are fearful but also so very brave. I have watched you grow and I have fallen in love with every version of yourself." There was a pause before she continued. "I love that we're both extremely strange," she laughed and so did he. "You understand me like no other. I simply cannot express how excited I am for us to take on this new adventure; to grow together. I love you more than anything and I will always be there, no matter what comes our way."

There wasn't a dry eye amongst everyone. They were all tearing up.

"Molly Hooper," Sherlock smiled. "I've always loved the way your name rolled off of my tongue. I hope you won't be opposed to hearing me say Molly Holmes." They all laughed at this lightheartedly. "Every moment with you has been the best investment of my time. I once scoffed at the idea of romantic entanglements; mostly because I did not believe anyone could truly love me. The fact that a most beautiful, wise, kind, intelligent woman such as yourself did was hard for me to process; surely, it must have been a mistake, but you proved me wrong. I hope that you continue to prove me wrong about love and sentiment; for it's the only thing that I'm glad to have been wrong about. I know we've had our hard times, but amongst those rough waters, your strength shone through and it is something I admire greatly about you. You give me strength every day. This new adventure we are embarking on is bound to be my favourite one yet. I look forward to growing our family and growing old with you, Molly, for I am most ardently in love with you."

After the I do's and the exchange of rings, Sherlock didn't even wait for his brother to tell him to kiss his bride much to the delight of their friends and family. They snogged much longer than appropriate and only parted with their faces flushed when Greg jokingly told them to get a room.

Molly was absolutely glowing. As she danced with her new husband to the song he had composed for them, she couldn't help but wonder if she should tell him. The gentle melody flowed through them as their feet appeared to glide gracefully in the grass. Molly had taken to dancing barefoot, as it was easier on her small feet.

"I have a surprise for you, Mister Holmes," she whispered in his ear.

"Consider me intrigued, Mrs. Holmes" Sherlock replied. Their song reached the end as she quietly told him.

Their family and friends looked on in confusion as to what was happening. Sherlock had stepped a short distance away from Molly, his eyes shining and his mouth slightly agape. Molly was beaming and nodded her head in confirmation of whatever she told him. The confusion was no longer an issue when they watched Sherlock drop to his knees and wrap his arms around her waist, pressing a tender kiss to her belly. Molly had been pregnant for six weeks; they were having a baby.

"I take it you're happy?" she laughed gleefully.

"Molly Holmes, I couldn't ask for a better wedding gift," he spoke softly, lifting her in his arms and spinning her around. Their friends and family cheered at the news. They joined in to dance, Sherlock's parents, John with Rosie and Greg with Mrs. Hudson. Meena and her husband both danced with their son held carefully in their arms. Mycroft was surprised when Molly pulled him in for one and Sherlock laughed at the look of discomfort on his brother's face.

When Molly returned to his arms, Sherlock kissed her firmly. He was still reeling from the news of her pregnancy. Their hearts felt whole and at once they knew, in each other's arms, they were home.

 **Author's Note:** Stay tuned for the epilogue!


	18. Epilogue

"Daddy's just going to love your new onesie, baby girl," Molly cooed at their six month old daughter. "You're growing so fast."

Charlotte was mumbling unintelligible words. She had said her first word earlier that day and Molly was so excited for Sherlock to get home and hear it for himself. As if on cue, he walked through the door, John trailing behind him. Another case was successfully solved if you went by the look on their faces.

"There's my favourite girls," Sherlock smiled. He noticed the new onesie his daughter was sporting. It was white and had a chemistry beaker with a strand of DNA inside, blue and pink hearts above it. The words on it said 'made with love n' science.'

"I thought you'd like it," Molly beamed. "I'd love to take credit for finding it but it was actually your brother who purchased it."

"Really?" John laughed in disbelief. "I shouldn't be surprised." Mycroft was quite clearly wrapped around his niece's dimpled fingers. Sherlock lifted his daughter out of Molly's arms and into his.

"Dada," Charlotte spoke clearly.

"Did she just—?" Sherlock faltered.

"She's been saying it all day," Molly confirmed. John smiled and gestured to her from behind his best friend that he'd be downstairs with Mrs. Hudson and Rosie to give them a moment. Charlotte nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him. Sherlock's heart felt it might burst from all of the love he held for his daughter.

"She knows who I am," was all that left his lips.

"Mhmm," Molly replied. "Charlotte, where's daddy?" Their daughter grasped Sherlock's nose.

"So clever," Sherlock remarked in awe.

"Just like her father," Molly told him.

"Mm, and her mother," he added before happily pressing a kiss to his wife's lips.

* * *

Seven years later, The Holmes and Watson families were preparing for Halloween. 221B had been decorated like a mad scientist's lab complete with Jello made in a brain mold and skeleton standees. Rosie was dressed as Tinkerbell and Charlotte was dressed as Belle from Beauty and the Beast. When it would be time for the party, Sherlock and Molly were to be dressed as Frankenstein's Monster and the Bride of Frankenstein. Molly and Rosie were downstairs with Mrs. Hudson when John called out to them.

"I was going up to see Sherlock, right? Well, you lot need to come see this," he told them. "Got some of it on camera, I did." They all quietly climbed the stairs. When they reached the sitting room, Sherlock was still in his dress pants and white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The ballroom scene from Beauty and the Beast played on the telly whilst he danced with Charlotte, teaching her the exact steps. She was a quick learner.

"Oh my God," Molly gasped, placing her hand on her heart.

"How precious," Mrs. Hudson added.

When the dance ended, they all clapped whilst Sherlock bowed as Charlotte curtsied before running towards Molly.

"Mummy, did you see? Daddy taught me the waltz!" she exclaimed with glee.

"I did!" Molly told her. "You were so good, sweetheart!" Charlotte crooked her finger, gesturing for Molly to lend her an ear.

"Daddy says he loves to dance with you and wants to know if you would like to," she spoke not so quietly.

"Why, I'd love to," Molly smiled. The sound of crying alerted them. "But first, I need to feed your brother."

* * *

When she returned, Sherlock was already in costume, much to John's amusement. When her baby brother began crying again, Charlotte reached out from where she sat on the sofa and Molly sat beside her to let her hold him. He was dressed as a pirate with a knit cap, eyepatch and bottoms.

"It'll be alright, Victor," she told him. "Don't cry." If you looked at both of them, you would see that each one had a perfect combination of their parents' physical traits. Charlotte had chestnut curls and cerulean eyes whilst Victor had onyx wisps of hair and chocolate eyes. They both ended up with Molly's nose and Sherlock's lips. As to which one had the petite gene, only time would tell.

Sherlock watched the children when Molly went to change into costume. Mrs. Hudson was holding Victor when she reappeared and finally took up Sherlock's offer on that dance.

It was a full flat when everyone else arrived; Greg, Mycroft and the Holmes parents who came to the city for the weekend. Their little home was bustling with laughter and revelry. Family had become the center of Sherlock's universe and he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank y'all so much for going on this journey with me! It's been so much fun!


End file.
